


ancoragem

by eden (scifis)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Vague Idolverse, love is quiet and tender and sacred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,169
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28045095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scifis/pseuds/eden
Summary: Seokmin turns to him, sun to the lonely sunflower in the middle of the night, because isn’t it love, too, the way it continues to rise day after day? And his eyes say: I miss you when you’re not here. I miss you when I’m not being held by you.
Relationships: Lee Jihoon | Woozi/Lee Seokmin | DK
Comments: 2
Kudos: 18





	ancoragem

**Author's Note:**

> a love letter to seokmin and jihoon. they are two of the most beautiful souls ive met, and i want more than anything for them to be happy the way they make me.

“I’m comfortable with you,” Jihoon says. The lights are off. Seokmin probably has his eyes closed, but Jihoon is sure he’s listening, always present, always attuned, always aware. “Have I ever told you how comfortable I am with you?”

There are people who are born knowing — their mother tongue, what family means, just how loved they are and how it affects their lives on the long run — but Jihoon likes to think that he is one of the few exceptions, someone who learned those with time. Not much of a difference, he supposes, except for the knowledge of how much pain losses can cause. 

They talk a lot. It’s essential for both of them to, so they talk. For him, Seokmin turns graceful; he has a look dedicated to Jihoon that makes his eyes soft and his smile a little less bright, but endless times more full of love. Jihoon speaks in delicate gestures. It has always been his language: a touch here, a glance there, a Get away from me, you’re sweaty as he lets Seokmin drape a tired body over his own. 

Seokmin turns around to face him on the bed, and Jihoon cranks his neck down to look at him properly. “Tell me again,” Seokmin whispers. Like it’s supposed to be a secret. Like the world could never know. Like Jihoon would ever be selfish enough to keep something so beautiful only for himself. There is a smile dancing in Seokmin’s lips and Jihoon knows the taste of it like it is his own. 

“Maybe tomorrow. Good night, Dokyeom.”

He closes his eyes and adjusts the arm he has as support under his head so it stops hurting. Inside his mind, Jihoon counts one, two, three, four seconds before Seokmin’s incredulous laugh meets his ears. It’s airy, a little breathy, a small hum. The world outside is quiet and they match it for a while, before there is movement on the bed and Jihoon squints so he can see Seokmin sit up. 

The expanse of his bare back is endless — I want to plant a garden. I want to build a castle. I want to build an everlasting empire, Jihoon thinks — and his head hangs low, body swinging side to side. “Won’t you tell me now?” 

It’s another whisper. Quiet, so quiet, so fragile in what makes it real, something Seokmin only lets him see after a long day, after they’re tired and laying in the same bed, when he needs the reminder that this is how their love exists, too: away from everyone else and the cameras, not for show, just for them. Won’t you tell me now.

“I want to write about you all the time,” Jihoon sits up, hugs Seokmin by the waist, presses his lips to Seokmin’s shoulder. “Someday. Tomorrow. Next week, who knows. I want to write about you someday.”

Seokmin turns to him, sun to the lonely sunflower in the middle of the night, because isn’t it love, too, the way it continues to rise day after day? And his eyes say: I miss you when you’re not here. I miss you when I’m not being held by you. 

“You’ll tell me, right? When you do?”

Something in Jihoon’s chest unfurls. Won’t you tell me now. It’s insane, how much he can know and still want to learn more. Turn knowledge not into a weapon but into a bouquet: here is everything about you I have committed to my memory, and here are parts of me in return. Is it enough. Do you know, now, too. Would you like to learn more.

“I will if you let me kiss you right now.”

Another breathy laugh leaves Seokmin, even lighter this time. He is shirtless in Jihoon’s bed and he is so soft, so warm, so lovely. The blush across his cheeks spreads quickly to his chest when Jihoon holds his face, cups his jaw. 

“Want this all the time, too,” Jihoon whispers to the air between them, and then presses their lips together. He is so used to taking. Seokmin is so patient and kind and he never takes. Jihoon wants him to — he holds Seokmin’s bottom lip between his teeth, pulls, swallows Seokmin’s shaky exhale. Take. I want you to take.

Seokmin shivers in his hold and it’s the prettiest thing in the world. Seokmin is the prettiest man alive, and Jihoon has him, has learned him, is learning him, looks at Seokmin with the knowledge that Seokmin will look back. When he says Take, Seokmin does.

The hands on his forearm slide to his waist and settle there. I love you, Seokmin says, and kisses him. I love you this much. I love you like this. “All the time, yeah,” he mumbles between kisses. “All the ti—”

He shuts up. It is everything, to be able to live like this, love like this, exist like this. Kiss Seokmin at 3AM. Jihoon forgets the days where this is impossible. Where this could cause them all they’ve managed to conquer and build over the years. Here, he runs his hands through Seokmin’s hair, presses his lips more firmly to his, uses tongue and too much teeth because it’s what he knows, says I love you. I love you this much, like this. 

Normally, for them, it’s only implied — Seokmin smiles at him, I love you, Jihoon puts a hand on the small of Seokmin’s back, I love you this much, they fix each other’s hair, like this.

Jihoon thinks back to when he first thought I’m comfortable with you. It was: I met you and I knew. I will grow by your side. Something will happen eventually. Seokmin’s fingers splayed out on his waist twitch, and they both smile at the same time. Jihoon pulls back first, licks his lips, misses their focal point already.

When Seokmin opens his eyes to look at him there is an undeniable fondness in them. Jihoon has long stopped asking what he sees, for it would ruin the magic, the power it gives him. He looks at me like that, Jihoon thinks, I am capable of cultivating a love like this. How do his own eyes look, then, at Seokmin? Do they become small enough, in opposition to the amount of adoration inside him?

Jihoon holds Seokmin’s hand and pulls him to lay down again, side by side, chest to chest. “Kiss me,” Seokmin says, mouth already glued to his, and it’s the first thing in his mind when he wakes up and the last once he goes to sleep, so Jihoon does. He doesn’t have to pretend to anyone — can hold Seokmin by the jaw, pull his hair, nibble at the sensitive flesh of his collarbones.

If he could know anything forever and never forget it for a second, carry it with him until his body is weak, Jihoon would want it to be this: how beautiful it is to be loved by someone. How beautiful being loved by someone makes him feel. 

**Author's Note:**

> this fic, like every work of mine, although short, is very personal... lol. hope you enjoyed!


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